Clean Slate
by Kazuya-sama
Summary: A family is seriously shaken when the head of the household, Kazuya Mishima, is seriously injured by accident. what changes will this bring about for the family?
1. Prologue: Path To Disaster

A/N: This is yet another idea I've had – the one that inspired me to begin writing again.

I warn you, it's different once again to everything you're used to. Partnerships are different in this story, as are the outcomes of the different Tekken stories. Please think before you flame =) It's a different slant on an AU sort of timeline, and at first involves a Kazuya most of you are more used to seeing. 

Anyhow, please give this a read...if you approve, drop me a review if you can ^_^  
  
***  
Clean Slate – Prologue

***

Whoever said that working from home was more relaxing than in the office was a bloody fool. 

Kazuya was trying to get some important work done, but with the screaming children in the background, it certainly wasn't an easy task. Damn near impossible, in his opinion. Why wasn't someone controlling those brats? As he often said to himself; _Ragh, children. My price for trying to enjoy myself._

Maybe it was just his concentration. It was time for a break anyway; he'd been working for three hours straight already. The middle-aged Mishima stood from his work desk and wandered out of the office, down the hall towards his bedroom. The house he lived in was large – not the one he'd grown up in, and not nearly as grandiose, but definitely a mansion in its own right. The bedrooms, in accordance, were large; particularly the master suite. 

It was large, and it was nearly perfect in its cleanliness. Everyone knew exactly where everything was, and the only messes were always in the rumpus room, where the kids (still making noise in the background) threw toys about. He headed for the wardrobe, and pulled out one of his white Gi...time for some training to get his mind off the irritation in the background. _Next weekend, I shall work in the office_, he decided. 

After a moment, he drifted into the ensuite to get changed into his training clothes. Off came the sweaty work clothes, dumped in a heap just outside the bathroom. Kazuya found himself staring into the mirror, at his own reflection. A middle-aged Japanese man stared back...jet black hair hanging behind his head, a widow's peak starting to form on his forehead as his hairline receded. His face, with those fearsome eyes and high cheekbones, seemed almost frightening...his body, too, being as powerful and muscular as it is was another thing to consider frightening. The most striking feature, however, was the long scar still sitting across his chest, once a deep gouge through the flesh many a year ago. 

As he stared at the reflection staring out at him, he had to wonder; what had he become over the years? Kazuya Mishima, now forty-two years old, was married with four children, a secure job, a loyal wife, and a nice home. This was the sort of thing that made most men's lives a joy – fulfilment of every human wish; wealth, family, love, loyalty, material possession...but still, Kazuya didn't feel the 'joy' or 'happiness' he was supposed to in having all these things. Life was still as much of a burden as it was in the old days when his father still tormented him. Here he was, a supposed businessman and family man...but truly an 'arrogant loner' inside. 

He covered the scar on his chest with the coat of the Gi, and tied a black belt around his waist. Training always changed his mood slightly; the exercise invigorated him, releasing all the tension and stress of sitting still in front of a computer, coping with the idiots at the other end of the line. After putting on his gloves, he headed downstairs to the dojo in the basement. It was too hot to train outside today, after all. 

The air was cooler downstairs than in the rest of the house – mainly because of the concrete floors. He stayed on the opposite side of the room from the punching bag hanging from the ceiling, and began to practise a kata; fits, feet, arms and legs brutally, but in perfect control, attacking thin air. There was nothing but the snap of Gi fabric against his limbs as sound in the air, and the occasional deeper breath from his chest. At last, peace and quiet.

Or so he thought; the door of the makeshift dojo flew open only a few minutes into his training, and a six-year-old boy raced into the room, closely followed by a rather enraged nine-year-old girl. Both resembled him rather closely – the eyebrows and high cheekbones – though his son seemed more like a younger version of him than the angered girl. 

As his silence was shattered, he stood and watched with his arms folded across his chest as the boy ran around laughing, and his sister gave chase, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of hatred. She finally caught up with him, and tackled the smaller boy to the ground, wrestling maniacally with him for what seemed to be possession of a rather bedraggled-looking doll in his hands. The two screamed and cursed at each other on the ground, until finally Kazuya's deep voice boomed through the cool room. 

"Akako! What are you doing to your brother?"

The two stopped dead and looked up at the older man, startled. Finally Akako rolled off the boy and stood, pointing at him disparagingly. "Daddy, he took my Barbie!"

Kazuya rolled his dark eyes. "Haven't you got hundreds of those things?"

"Yeah, but it's _mine_!"

He sighed. "Did it ever occur to you that he's just doing it to annoy you?"

She stamped her foot and balled her fists by her side. "It's _my_ Barbie!"

Reasoning with spoilt children definitely wasn't his forte. "Hiroshi...just give her the doll."

Before he could, the door flew open again and slammed against the wall behind it...in marched an older girl, around thirteen years old or so. She looked it too; plenty of makeup, fancy overdone hair, a short skirt, and a revealing halter-neck shirt. She strode right over to the younger girl, pointing a painted nail threateningly. "You...you've been using my makeup, haven't you, you little brat?!"

_Great, her too? _Kazuya fought off the urge to give them all a sharp crack over the bottom with his belt. 

She snarled. "You know I don't want your stupid makeup, Leiko, I don't want to look like a clown!"

With that, the two girls dove at each other, scratching and pulling hair. In the meantime, Hiroshi merely put down the doll, and began playing with a metal baseball bat sitting in the corner of the room. The noise in the room was cacophonous, and drew attention from all corners of the house. A middle-aged woman came down the stairs and into the room, followed by a girl that looked identical to Akako, only without the hatred and malice in her eyes. If anything, she looked a little shy and worried. The woman, average-looking, short in stature, and fine lines on her face from stress and worry, sighed and shook her head as her two daughters fought amongst themselves over something pointless.

Kazuya noticed her and gave her a condemning look. "Do they do this all the time, Sakura?" He sounded exasperated.

She nodded. "They do it often, mostly over material things. I've tried my best to teach them otherwise, but they never listen."

Hiroshi aimed the baseball bat at the Barbie lying on the ground where he left it. Akako saw him doing so and raced over, screaming blue murder at the top of her lungs, and tackled the boy, trying to wrench the bat away. "Don't you dare do it, or I'll rip your stupid head off!"

Of course, this resulted in a push-me-pull-you between the two, with the bat as a tug-o-war device. This was too much...Kazuya wasn't used to handling troublesome children. "Enough!" Again, his loud voice boomed across the room, but this time, Akako was so startled she let go of the bat. Hiroshi kept on pulling with all his might, which resulted in the bat flying away...towards Kazuya. 

It happened too fast for him to react...he was hit in the head with the flying piece of metal with such force he was knocked unconscious, and fell backward; his head hit the concrete floor with full force. 

The three girls in the room all screamed...Hiroshi and his mother gasped and ran to the fallen man's aid. There was a small pool of blood forming beneath his head...the impact had certainly caused some damage. Even when shaken at the shoulder, Kazuya did not awaken. 

Sakura turned to the girl by her side. "Hana, go and call an ambulance!" 

The girl raced off upstairs, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the rest of the family carefully took Kazuya upstairs. He was breathing, which was a good sign...but good enough, who knew?  
  
***  
  
The Mishima family sat in the waiting room of the hospital, all five of them wringing their hands nervously. They'd been waiting for well over an hour, and still no one had come to tell them if their beloved Kazuya – father and husband – was going to be alright. 

Still, despite the sombre mood, the two girls had once again found something to bicker about in hushed tones. Sakura shook her head and put an arm around Hana, who was doing her best to hold back the tears. How could such a thing happen to her father? 

Another half an hour of waiting ensued before any news came. A doctor, dressed in the full regalia, stepped into the room and headed for them. He bowed to Sakura, then began. "Mrs Mishima, there is good news and bad news. The good news is that your husband is now in a stable condition. With the bad, I can only tell it to you straight..." She subconsciously squeezed Hana's hand tighter in her own. The doctor continued. "We're not sure what the extent of the brain damage is yet. It could mean some of his functions are inhibited, or it could be as severe as him never waking again."

Hana's bottom lip quivered, as did Sakura's. The other two girls had fallen silent by now, the colour draining from their faces. "What are you gonna do?" Hana was the only one that dared to speak.

"Well, we've sent him over to the G-Corporation labs. They have technology that might just save his life. I can't promise anything, but as it stands, this is his only hope. He took two pretty sharp blows to the head after all."

Sakura nodded solemnly, and petted Hana's hair...as she did, the young girl finally lost control of her tears, and they flowed freely down her cheeks. "How long until we know if he's alright?"

The doctor frowned. "I think it'll be at least a month of treatment at G-Corporation, then who knows how long it'll take for him to awaken...if he does at all. My best guess is six weeks until he'll be well enough to be seen."

"Well, in that case, we'd better get home, there's nothing more we can do...I need to inform the office that he won't be coming in tomorrow. Please, if anything comes up, doctor...don't hesitate to call us."

***  
  
After getting home in a cab, the five of them went their separate ways for the evening. The disaster that afternoon had shocked all of them – who'd have thought that any of them would miss their cold, emotionless father...even his anger when pushed too far?

Hana certainly missed him. She sat on her bed, fiddling with a little jewellery box she'd been given on her birthday...not from him directly, but from the family in general. It reminded her of him, for some reason. Then again, he'd never paid much attention to her. He was always busy with work, or occasionally with her brother, Hiroshi...or telling the other two to stop fighting...but to him, she barely even existed, so it seemed. 

Still, she loved him, because he was her father. He was never harsh toward her, just...distant. She had to be the only one of the four that had never been scolded by him at any time...but also the only one that had never been hugged. Then again, he rarely hugged anyone, if at all. 

After a moment, she dug around in the drawers next to her bed. The other side of the room belonged to Akako...the twins shared a room to conserve space for guest rooms. Not that they ever had guests, mind you. In the drawers she found a small photo of the family; she was standing beneath her father, next to Leiko. An idea came to her...she pulled her scissors from within the drawer, and cut out the section of the photo with her and her unsmiling father. She placed the cut-out inside the jewellery box, and locked it. She found a piece of ribbon, and tied it to the key...the key and ribbon went around her neck like a necklace. 

The rest of the photo she put back in the drawer with the scissors. The box went back on the drawers beside her bed. Just as she sat back down on her bed, Akako came into the room, dressed in her pyjamas. She climbed into the bed at the other end of the room, and sat and stared at her sister.

After a moment, she broke the silence. "You know, he hates you."

Hana looked up at her, startled. "Who hates who?"

"Daddy hates you."

Something inside Hana hurt...something deep inside her. "That's not true, he loves all of us the same!"

"You know that's a lie. I'm his favourite...he always ignores you because he hates you." With that, she rolled over and turned out the light with the switch above her bed.

In the darkness Hana sat, wondering. Was it true – true that her father ignored her because he hated her? It couldn't be...a father never hates his own child. She huddled down beneath her blankets, clinging to her teddy bear, willing the tears to go away. Maybe she'll wake up in the morning to discover this whole ordeal was a nightmare...just a dream.


	2. Broken Childhood

A/N: Oh my Bob, I'm actually continuing with something!

Writer's block and disinterest still have me by the throat. Probably won't be updating very regularly, since I have to update almost ALL of my stories. Go n' read them though, if you haven't already...my gallery is full of writing I can't seem to match any more. _Déjà Vu_, I've found, is particularly hard to keep up with, because I could write so much better a few months ago.

Enough random pimping of stories from me =)

This story is going to get weird as of now *snaps fingers*

***

A month was a long enough time to let the shock and horror, the trauma and the loss, to wash over the family and fade in its intensity. The silence in the house, the lack of the deep, booming masculine voice, had become quite a bit more bearable than it had been at first, though admittedly, there were several within the family that found the time passing since Kazuya's fall made his absence more and more painful by the day.

Sakura had stayed in bed longer than most days this morning; it was Sunday, after all, what need was there to rise early? The kids were all asleep too, for once, so by eight in the morning there was still no need to get up. On the other side of the Queen-sized bed, the sheets were still neatly folded and unruffled; of course, they'd been unoccupied for a full month now. 

Looking upon the unoccupied sheets made her think back to the past, before she met him. How lonely she'd been, not particularly attractive, and not particularly well-off; it would have been unlikely for her to marry a man she truly loved. She'd been incredibly lucky though, in meeting the dark, handsome Kazuya Mishima. The time they'd spent together before marriage was something she didn't think of often, because the time afterward was the time she enjoyed the most.

Lying there on one half of the bed, she closed her eyes, casting her mind back to those first few months. In the mornings, she would wake at dawn just to watch her husband sleep peacefully. To her, he was so beautiful...his unique features, with what would normally be a fearsome face; the squared-off chin was one of her favourite features of his face, along with those dark eyes. They were an endless abyss of pain and suffering, and bore what most people considered cold arrogance...she knew how to look deeper, and see the loneliness, and beyond that, the lust for love. She would lie there, watching the rise and fall of his powerful chest, and sometimes even rest her head against him, feeling the warmth of his solid muscles. 

Though they had been happily married – in fact, it had been he that proposed to her – he was never particularly affectionate. She was often left wishing he would kiss her, lusting after his touch, but left without. He had always been a workaholic, and put business before his own pleasure. Still, she never went entirely without his affection...they did have four beautiful children after all...but it left her hungry for more.

Now more than ever she longed for his touch. For so many years she'd tried to change him, to bring him out of his shell, to make people accept him...of late, all she wanted to do was make sure he was happy. Forget the distant motives of healing unhealable wounds, just soothe the pain. It looks like she was too late for even that...with no word from the hospital of late, or this mysterious G-Corporation, she may have lost her last chance to make sure he knew that someone loved him.

So many of her friends had wondered why she stayed with such a cold person over the years, since there were 'plenty of nice men out there'...but none fulfilled that little need within her soul as he did, despite how little he showed his love. She considered herself truly lucky; a man that never raised his voice to her, never dreamed of striking her...he was rare in her circle of friends. 

The more she thought about him, the more she missed him. His mere presence was comforting. Without him, she felt empty, vulnerable...

...which was why she shrieked and fell out of bed when the phone beside the bed rang. After a moment of mild panic, she scraped herself up to reach the phone, and answered it.

"Hello? Sakura Mishima speaking...oh yes, hello doctor, good news I hope...oh yes...yes it has been a while, hasn't it?...good progress, that's good to know...we can come and see him? His treatment's over? That's fantastic...yes, we'll be around shortly! Bai bai!"

She slammed the phone down and raced down the hall to wake the children. This was the moment they'd all been waiting for...  
  
***

_Sometimes, it seemed, the world would graciously stop turning for just a moment in time, for just long enough to enjoy the happiest moment in your life. Sometimes, they days were just perfect...not a cloud in the sky, warm weather, lush grass and birds in the trees chirping merrily above. And sometimes, a dream might just come true when you least expect it._

_At least, it had for Hana. She was having the time of her life, running at top speed through the backyard as if her life depended on it. She giggled as the grass, recently cut short but growing steadily, tickled her bare toes; behind her, a deeper, masculine chuckle echoed her own. She was no match for him, no matter how much youthful energy she bore; he was a warrior, strong and stealthy, slender and powerful...she was just a child. _

_After a moment, she felt powerful arms grab her around the waist, and she fell to the thick floor of grass, protected within the arms that had captured her. She rolled over to see her father, grinning like he'd never grinned before, leaning over her. He was panting lightly, and his thick raven hair was ruffled considerably. Playfully, Hana reached up to brush aside the black locks and put them over his ears._

_As she squirmed beneath him, Kazuya leaned down and kissed his daughter on the cheek. Her arms hugged him tightly around the neck, never wanting to let him go. He didn't let her go either...it was a rare moment when the two could spend time alone together in the large backyard of their home without the others disturbing them. All she ever wanted was a moment of her dear father's time, and to see him smile at her. And here he was, lounging about on the grass outside in his work clothes, playing with his youngest daughter. It was a dream come true._

The dream, so it seemed, was nothing but a dream. Hana awoke to the sounds of her mother rushing around the other end of the hall, shouting something excitedly. Her sleepy mind didn't register the commotion, she simply drifted off into a doze – but a troubled doze. That dream...she'd been having it so often ever since Kazuya had been hospitalised. The one thing she wanted the most was her father's affection, but it seemed now more than ever that she would never, even once in her life, get a moment of his utmost devotion. 

She didn't have much room for thought when the door of the twin's room flew open and slammed against the wall beside it, with Sakura racing through a moment later. The overexcited woman raced over to Akako, shaking her violently through the covers, babbling almost too fast to comprehend.

"Akako! Hana! Wake up, the hospital just called! Your father is out of treatment! We can go and see him! Hurry up, get dressed!"

Neither twin needed a second order or a second's hesitation; they both flew out of bed and bolted toward the wardrobe, pulling off their pyjamas and throwing on whatever clothes they could find. 

Within ten minutes, almost everyone was downstairs by one of the cars. They would take the sedan, since there were five of them today. The only one not present was Leiko, and the rest of the family was growing impatient very quickly – this was not the time to fuss with presentation! She finally tottered down, however, dressed in a short leather skirt, platform sandals, and a halter neck shirt. Her face was heavily made up too, with sultry dark eye shadow and lipstick.

Sakura scowled. "What do you think your father will say if he sees you dressed like that, young lady?!"

She simply shrugged nonchalantly and stepped into the front passenger seat of the sedan. Rolling her eyes, Akako climbed through the back seat to the far side, and sat down; Hiroshi followed through and sat in the middle, and Hana sat on the last seat left, closing the door as she went. 

Within a moment Sakura drove down the long driveway and onto the road, heading for the hospital at barely within the speed limit. Luckily rush hour was over, and the hospital was close; within a quarter of an hour they were racing in the front doors and toward the hospital reception. 

The receptionist recognised the family after spotting Hiroshi; the tell-tale Mishima eyebrows were most prominent on him out of all the children. She smiled, and pointed down the hall. "You'll find him in ward 3A, just around that next bend on your right."

Without hesitation – though Leiko almost fell over a few times in her ridiculous shoes – they scampered down the hall, and found the doctor standing outside the door of the ward, waiting for them. 

"Ah, Mrs Mishima, I've been expecting you." He was standing in front of a _closed_ door. "Before you go in, I want to give you a brief run-through of what the G-Corporation has done."

He waved the family toward a row of seats in the hall, and stood before them as they sat down. "After discovering the brain damage that resulted from that fall to the concrete floor under such force, we decided the only way to save him was to rebuild the damaged tissue with a new, previously un-tested method of therapy. The G-Corporation has technology that, using an existing DNA template, rebuilds damaged tissue according to the template. The best DNA to use is that from the early twenties, because it is from full adulthood, but is also as young as possible, thus limiting the risk of a slower than expected recovery.

"The procedure was a success, as you have heard, but has yielded some unexpected results. The first is a positive one, from most points of view. The technology is more useful than anyone predicted, and within the time that Mr Mishima was being treated, his entire body had been rebuilt to match the 24-year-old DNA sample we used."

Sakura quickly realised that it meant that he looked younger than he was a month ago...definitely not a bad thing.

"The second result is a little less positive. The damage, whilst it has been healed, has been replaced by new tissue. We don't know for certain whether existing brain functions in the repaired areas are still there, or if certain parts of his mind have been completely wiped..."

"You mean..." Sakura's hand gripped Hiroshi's painfully tightly. 

The doctor shrugged. "We don't know anything for certain yet. He doesn't need life support, so his vital functions are undamaged...but he's not woken up yet, so it's impossible to tell the extend of the damage, if there was any lasting result at all..."

The Mishima family glanced nervously from one to another.

"But you're welcome to come in and see him now, he's just sleeping. He could wake up at any moment..." He turned and opened the door to the ward, and stood aside to let them inside.

Sakura went in first, her children following hesitantly behind her. Lying on the single bed in the room was the man they'd come to see, sleeping peacefully beneath the white sheets.

Nervously, Sakura sat down on the chair beside the bed, and stared down at her beloved's face. What a surprise...the doctor hadn't been exaggerating at all! He looked at least 24 years old, if not younger; the fine lines around his eyes were gone, his cheekbones weren't as obvious as they were before, his lips were softer and fuller, and his hairline had returned to its original place further down his forehead. He was the same as when she first met him, and she felt herself very quickly falling in love with him all over again. 

Akako stood beside the bedside, and looked directly downward, to see Kazuya's hand. It didn't seem as bony as before, but that was clearly because he looked so much younger. There was a drip jammed into the back of his hand too...the idea of having a large needle shoved into her hand made her shudder. 

Leiko ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Wow, Dad actually looks kinda hot now. Wait yuck, that sounded so wrong..."

Hiroshi giggled and rested his arms against the bed. "Is Daddy gonna be okay, Okaasan?" 

"I don't know." She stroked the back of her hand over his pale face...lack of sunlight, nutrition and life had left him looking a little...dead. "We'll find out when he wakes up..."

***

There were voices all around him, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from. Everything was so dark, so cold, so empty. What had happened? Where was he? 

The darkness bore no answers for his questions.

Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings. There was the stench of disinfectant, hanging in cold air. He was lying down on a bed somewhere. The back of his left hand hurt a little as he tried to move it...

***

"Okaasan, his hand is moving!" Akako pointed excitedly. "Otousan, wake up! Wake up, wake up!" She shook his arm firmly with both little hands.

***

That made his hand sting rather than just hurt. What the heck was going on?

He forced his eyes open, but was met with blinding white light. He squinted, and the light eventually became tolerable. When he looked about, five faces stared down intently at him. It was a surprise to say the least, pleasant or not.

A middle-aged woman smiled to the point of almost exploding with happiness, and squeezed his shoulder affectionately with a hand. "How are you, sweetheart?"

_What the Hell?_

Only one thing for it. "Who are you?"


End file.
